


don't know a thing about perfect white girls that wear gold

by hypotheticalfanfic



Series: and the dog bites down a little harder [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Daughters, Disappointment, F/M, Gen, Racism, Sexism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 15:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6056896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypotheticalfanfic/pseuds/hypotheticalfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reboot daughters, a trio of short fics. This one's about Amanda V'Lar Uhura.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't know a thing about perfect white girls that wear gold

She used her full name communing with the Spock extended family on New Vulcan and swimming away summers on Earth with her human cousins. She used her full name during school, as a small child and beyond, up through the long Starfleet years in California. Amanda V’lar Uhura never changed her name or her face or her stance to fit in better, although doing so would surely have led to more friends, fewer fights. She used the human-as-could-be first name, the one so common there were nine of them in her Starfleet class, three in her dorm, even, because three-quarters of her was human. She used the middle name, after a Vulcan diplomat who’d brokered two separate peaces between her father’s father’s people and their ancient enemies, because her father’s father was Vulcan and her father was Vulcan unless you got to know him and she was Vulcan, too, in some ways. Maybe she had rounded human ears but she was Vulcan nonetheless.

And she used the last name, her mother’s name, her mother’s mother’s name, on and on through eons of time and space, because Uhura is family, Uhura is solid and grounding and women throughout the ages banding together to do what needed to be done, to do it better than any man or any ten men could, because Uhura means family, means you’re never alone, even on a starship, even in a room where everyone else has someone with the same heritage or genetic makeup as they do. Everyone except you. Uhura means there are women and women and women, back until the beginning, standing behind and beside you. Uhura means that their strength is yours, too, a pool of strength into which you dip your hands and rise up with fists.

On the _Enterprise_ , something was different. On the _Enterprise_ , they knew the three equal parts of her like she had been their own from the beginning — because she had, really. She was born on the ship and carried with it throughout space. She was dropped off for schooling and picked back up, as if the ship itself was her doting mother, too anxious to see her to wait one extra minute. On the _Enterprise_ , Uncle Scotty called her “AV” three days into her life, and it never faded. She was always AV there, always, to everyone; everyone’s favored niece, everyone’s pet project, everyone’s assistant and student and apprentice. When the other crew family members would rotate in, she was the one who showed them where things were, who walked them to the mess and the solarium and their loved one’s rooms. She could pilot the ship if needed, although they only let her do that once because she got too excited and wouldn’t stop bouncing off the walls for days. She played with upconverted power cells like building blocks, wove endless meaningless bundles from discarded cords and wires, learned to read from the instructional signs the ship so helpfully read aloud to her.

In retrospect, there was no chance she would ever grow up to be anywhere else.

Engineering was, she was pretty sure, the last bastion of sexism: women who wanted to put their hands in the guts of starships were still seen as a little odd. No one would say anything outright, to her face, just like no one would mention her skin color or her features or her names or anything else about her that was off-putting. Didn’t mean they weren’t thinking it. Uncle Scotty swore up and down that the engine room was a place where what you did mattered most, and maybe that was true on the _Enterprise_ when he was running things. AV just knows what it’s like on the USS _Palladium_ , now, here.

The lily-white all-male all-human engineering team is perfectly civil to her. Civil is the word, definitely. She was better, faster, more intuitive, and smaller than they were, all things that were valuable in a cramped engine room but also things that made her stand out, made her different. Different was a familiar skin to wear, alone felt like a comfortable coat, but AV had hoped when she got to a real rank on a real ship things would be…better. More like they were when she was a kid. She’d been silly to dream it, stupid to think it. Instead she buries her head in data, wraps her hands around cords and coils, works the problem ‘till it’s solved, just like Uncle Scotty taught her. She saves the team’s lives a half dozen times, saves the ship more than once, and nods to the captain in her most civil manner. It wouldn’t do to get a reputation.

She’s not gunning to run her own crew, not even aiming for Chief Engineer. She just wants a team, wants a home and a family and a place where she can be AV instead of Engineer Uhura. She wants, more than anything, to work with her hands all day, have a drink with her team, and feel content. It shouldn’t be, doesn’t seem to be, too much to ask for, but she’s never going to get it onboard the _Palladium_. After a night of increasingly poor drinking decisions, she applies for a transfer to any ship needing an Assistant Chief. Two years of civility (maybe with a slightly cooler edge after her application gets leaked by someone) pass without a word. She reapplies for a transfer, lowers her requested status. Anything to get off this ship. No answer comes. She breaks her own rule, reaches out to her parents - they can’t interfere with her placements. She knew that, of course, knew it going in, knew all that would happen was that her mom would call her “sister” and her dad would call her “dear” and they’d let her cry for a bit. Maybe that was enough (it wasn’t enough, would never be enough).

“Mom, I’m drowning here. Suffocating.”

“I know, sister, I know, I’m sorry.”

“The only thing I want to do is work on the ship, just keep her going and happy, and I can’t even do that now because every time I walk in the fucking room—“

“Language, please, dear.”

“Yeah, Dad, sorry, engineer. Um, every time, I just get this cold wave from them, from the guys. I hate it here.”

“We can’t do anything to influence anything, dear.”

“It’d be against regulations and it’d be unfair. I’m sorry, sister, I really am. We both are, aren’t we, Spock?”

“Yes, Nyota.”

“I know. Thought it was worth a shot.” AV shakes out her braids, takes a deep breath. “Thanks for letting me vent.”

“Anytime. We love you, don’t we, Spock?”

“Yes, dear. We love you very much.”

She clicks off the screen and cries a little while longer. This place is sucking out the soul of her, and something has to change.

Two weeks later, AV walks off of the _Palladium_ ’s slowest, crappiest shuttle and into JFK Memorial Spaceport, just off Earth’s moon. A tiny Traballan female (or an inter, AV can’t be sure) runs up to her. “Engineer Uhura?”

“AV, please, call me AV,” sticks out her hand and tries to swallow down the lump in her throat.

“Greetings, then, AV, sorry for the rush, please hurry, something’s going on with the port’s aft bulkhead cooling system, we think it’s a Tribble infestation maybe? We had a whole ordeal with them two years ago and I’ve been dreading it coming back, I’m Assistant Chief Rajoshka, sorry, do you have bags? We’ll get them later, come on!”

AV runs behind her new boss and cannot stop herself from smiling. It’s not the _Enterprise_ , it’s not even deep space, but it’s clearly going to be more her speed.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Perfect White Girls" by Patty Griffin.
>
>> Sunshine on a shiny ocean  
> Sunshine on a shiny bay  
> I opened a tiny shutter and  
> Sunshine blowing me away
>> 
>> And I don't know a thing...  
> Don't know a thing about perfect white girls that wear gold and


End file.
